


Pay Me Double

by Kiichixo



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: F/M, Have some nice IzaNamie, It'll get better someday, Izaya being an asshole, Namie loves beating the crap out of Izaya, Namie's snootiness, Obvious cursing, That's a lie, poor child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7728148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiichixo/pseuds/Kiichixo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friday the thirteenth. What a silly American superstition. Namie Yagiri wasn't buying any of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pay Me Double

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this so long ago it isn't even funny. I hope it's not too rushed for you guys though. Enjoy~ This ship needs more love anyways. Thanks for reading.

Friday the thirteenth. What a silly American superstition.Namie Yagiri wasn't buying any of it. Seriously, what was so bad about it? Wasn't that bad luck crap all made up because some guy in a hockey mask went around killing people with a chainsaw or something? Whatever, it went something like that. Even so, Namie thought it was complete bullshit. Nothing happened these days, If something did, it was just a coincidence. No, not having enough money to buy one volume of manga was not bad luck. You either didn't bring enough money or you've been wasting it elsewhere.

The secretary stared blankly at her computer, the dull clicking of the keys filling the air of her boss's empty apartment. Izaya had gone out to Ikebukuro again to "wander around," whatever that meant. For all she knew, he was probably dodging vending machines right about now.

**Hours before ~**

_The informant clicked his pen repeatedly, the Chat Room activity reflecting off his gleaming red eyes._

_**Kanra-san has logged in.** _

_Kanra: Kanra has arrived! ~☆_

_Tarō Tanaka: Hello Kanra-san._

_Setton: Hello!_

_Tarō Tanaka: Kanra-san, did you hear about West Gate Park? I seem to have missed the news._

_Kanra: I'm glad you asked Tanaka-san! In fact, a young high school girl was found lying in the fountain, her body squeezed under the crevice!_

_Tarō Tanaka: Drowned?_

_Kanra: Stabbed!_

_Setton: That's terrible! Do you think it was a Saika attack?_

_Tarō Tanaka: It couldn't be. Saika never killed anyone before._

_Kanra: Ding! Ding! Correct, Tanaka-san!_

_Kanra: Those who saw the body said she had a yellow handkerchief in her pocket. But that's just a rumour~_

_Tarō Tanaka: But if it is true, that would mean she's a part of the Yellow Scarves, right? Who would lash out against them like that?_

_Kanra: Maybe the Dollars? They **are** a freestyle gang. maybe they wanted to conduct a little "prank."_

_Tarō Tanaka: You think the Dollars would actually do something like that?_

_Kanra: Mm~ who knows?_ _  
_

_Tarō Tanaka: I see..._

_Kanra: What's the matter Tanaka-san? You seem troubled.  
_

_Tarō Tanaka: It's nothing! It's just very concerning..._ _  
_

_Kanra: Yes, yes. And on such a day too!_

_Setton: What do you mean?_

_Tarō Tanaka:_   _Setton-san you don't know?  
_

_Setton: Know what?_

_Kanra: That today is Friday the 13th of course._

_Tarō Tanaka: Have you not heard of it Setton-san?_

_Setton: No! What is it?  
_

_Kanra: There's too many explanations! So many people have different ideas of it._

_Kanra: But apparently it is a day of bad luck! I read that so many people are afraid of it, that it's safer than any other day!_

_Setton: Scary! Do you believe in it Kanra-san?_

_Kanra: Of course not. It's only silly superstition._

_Setton: I see!_

_Kanra: Well, I have to go now! Today is a busy day._

_Kanra: Bye bye!_

_Setton: Good bye Kanra-san! Stay safe!_

_Tarō Tanaka: Bye!_

_**Kanra-san has logged out.** _

_Izaya pushed back, sending his chair rolling. Spinning for a moment, he eventually came to a stop by the large window and looked out on Shinjuku. He hummed happily to himself, turning in his seat to face the secretary just a desk away.  
_

_"Namie~" The secretary glanced up with an almond glare._

_"What." She responded, looking back to her papers. He could practically feel the irritation rolling off of her. Not that he blamed her, filing papers was a very boring process._

_"My, my! Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?" He teased, knowing it would piss off his assistant even more. He didn't need to know her weak points. She was practically an open book._

_"Get lost."_

_The raven stood, footsteps headed for the door. He grabbed his fur-lined jacket. "Not a bad idea. I'm heading out, so take care of things okay? You can leave early if you want. As long as you get the work done."_

_"I hope today comes to bite you in the ass."_

_"Whetever you say, Namie dear. Oh, and do stop stalking the Chat Room. It's very unbecoming of a woman of your stature."_

_"I can do whatever the hell I want. I made that chat address for you so shut the fuck up and go." She snapped. "And don't call me 'dear.'" Her gaze that usually pierced people's soul bounced right off Izaya. For some reason her nasty glare that scared normal people didn't work on him._

_Key word: Normal people._

_He smirked and put a hand up as he slipped out the door. "Make sure to clean that dirty mouth of yours too. Bye bye, dear." Namie grabbed the nearest object, which was a book, and threw it at the laughing man quickly closing the door. The book landed with a thud. She didn't bother to pick it up. It was just another thing for the asshole to trip on when he came back._

**Present time~**

She glared at her computer, practically seething at the memory. She was already in a sour mood from the moment she walked into his office. Actually, just the fact that she had to work for Izaya to keep away the authorities was enough to piss her off. She felt like a coward hiding behind an even bigger coward. That, and she thought he looked like a very punchable person. She was sure that the brute of Ikebukuro, Shizuo Heiwajima, would agree.

Typing away, she hastily completed her assignments for the day, sitting back to let the information run through the printer. Shortly, there was a whirring noise, a click and a beep as the first of the warm sheets of paper began shuffling into the tray below. She stood, her chair moving on it's own, distancing itself from her internal rage. She picked up the sheets, warmth spreading over her manicured fingertips. She slipped a paper clip over the stack and set them on her employer's desk.

Free to leave, Namie picked up her purse from her desk, slinging it over her shoulder as she made her way to the door. She suddenly stumbled, having to catch herself with the door handle. She looked down at the floor, glaring at the discarded book she had thrown earlier. The secretary clenched her fists in anger before picking up said book and slamming it on the nearest table. With that, she stormed out of the apartment, her heels clicking against the hall floors.

**Later~**

A faint click sounded throughout the quiet home, the door slowly opening, letting the dim light filter through the doorway. Namie flicked the lightswitch, her apartment lighting up. She sighed softly, walking to her room and dropping off her purse next to the bed. The walk home had been torturous. First, she had tripped on that book. Then some bird decided she would be the perfect place to take a shit on, staining her green sweater. And then a heel of her nice high heels decided to break, rendering her unable to walk with shoes for the rest of the way. She ventured to the kitchen, setting her shoes on the counter for repair before checking her feet. Not that any good news would come out of it. Her black nylons had, of course, ripped. She huffed and carefully stripped off her sweater, making sure she didn't smear or touch the disgusting brownish-black and white droppings. Her nose crinkled in disgust as she observed the damage. Plopping the article in the sink, she began rinsing it out, even though she opposed to touching it. The washer would take care of that for her. After she finished, she tossed it in the washing machine.

Turning, she was suddenly consumed in darkness.

Shocked, she looked around her. A power outage? Now? She walked back to the entry way, flicking the switch multiple times. Nothing happened. She grumbled to herself as she roamed her apartment, sometimes having to reach out to make sure she wasn't running into a wall. A light breeze wafted across her bare back, tickling it and causing her to shiver (don't worry she has undergarments on, perverts). Looking over her shoulder, she stared warily into the dark. She hadn't opened any windows, had she? If she did, she didn't remember. She sighed, figuring it was just her hair brushing against her back. Heading back to her room, she hit her knee on the wooden bed frame, causing her to curse under her breath. Today was definitely not her day. Then again, when was it ever? She worked for Izaya Orihara of all people.

She fell upon the bed, her body immediately relaxing. Exhaling softly, she closed her eyes, enjoying the silky sheets beneath her.

**~**

A loud clatter had Namie jumping from where she lay, nearly falling from the tangle of blankets. Her dark brown eyes darted around the room, steadily adjusting to the lack of light. She swung her feet over the edge of the bed, the coldness of the wooden floor seeping through her nylons. Standing, she walked to the kitchen.

It was still the same small area from where she first left it, except one of her shoes were laying on the floor. She picked it up, her fingers brushing over the broken heel. It probably tipped over from the uneven weight, she thought as she placed it back with her other shoe. Still, she couldn't shake off that small bit of paranoia telling her she was being watched. She felt over the drawers lining the kitchen, pulling one open and feeling around until she grasped the wooden handle of a pocket knife. Taking the knife, she slid the drawer closed. She wasn't scared. World be damned if she ever got scared. No, not scared; nervous.

The steady creak of floorboards sounded with every step she took. Her heartbeat quickened in the eerie atmosphere and the uncomfortable swell of anxiety set itself in her chest. A cold wisp brushed against her shoulder, her body reacting on its own as she whipped around, brandishing the knife at the empty room. Creaks could be heard throughout the hallway. Quickening her step, she followed them to the bedroom. The sheets under her bed rustled, making her stiffen.

There it was. The monster under her bed. She was definitely not imagining this.

Stopping a few feet away from her bed, she held out the knife for safety measures. Crouching down, she prepared herself as she gently lifted the bedspread. She tilted her head slightly, staring into the dark depths that children feared so much. The secretary's dark eyes were met with bright golden ones which advanced with rapid speed. She let out a yelp, cut short when she lost her balance and landed on the floor. Her almond eyes followed the familiar black tail of a cat as it dashed out into the hall.

Namie cursed, her mouth forming a scowl. It was just a cat. How ridiculous! To think that something as harmless as a cat had entered her home. How stupid of her to think that she would ever be in danger at this ungodly hour. What time was it anyways!? Stupid! Stupid! _Stupid!_

" _Fufufu~!_ "

The brunette felt her blood run cold. That was definitely not a cat.

She scrambled to her feet, almost slicing herself with the weapon she possessed. More creepy giggles sent shivers down her spine like lightning. Namie peered into the darkness beyond her door, unmoving. Whoever had found their way into her flat didn't sound sane, and Namie really didn't want to deal with another crazy person other than the one she worked with. She gripped the handle of the blade tighter. Light footsteps echoed through the home and a dark figure appeared and disappeared in the flash of a second. Her sharp eyes flickered to the next room down the hall, more laughter fading in the distance. Forcing her limbs to move, she ventured out into the living space. Nothing had changed here either. The only addition was the dark outline of the cat on the couch.

"Come out. I know you're there." She commanded, throwing open the mostly shut door of a small storage room. Glancing inside, she found nothing but boxes and unused furniture. She took a step inside, checking over her shoulder just in case the predator hid behind the door. After finding nothing, the secretary, quite fed up with this game of hide and seek, huffed and said, "Look asshole, I don't have time to mess around. Come out already and die."

What was the point of this?

A minute went by and Namie scowled. "Coward." She hissed, turning to storm out of the room. The moonlight coating the floor just beyond was broken by a quick shadow. Running out, she was determined to kill the intruder. If this was a prank, it was pathetic. How could she take this seriously if the person never showed themselves? For all she knew, this guy wasn't even armed. All they did was run around her apartment like it was some kind of playhouse! She bundled her free hand into a fist. If she was going to play this stupid game- no, she wasn't going to play.

Pausing in the middle of the living room, she gritted her teeth, becoming annoyed by the constant giggling coming from all around. Seriously, this was wasting her time and she might just go berserk and jab at random in hopes of the blade coming back dripping red. She stared out the large windows of her apartment, wishing the nightlife of the city would calm some of her nerves and ease her paranoia.

A hand joined her faint reflection, reaching out from the pitch black surroundings to drag her back. On instinct, her hand jolted to strike the person behind, expecting the weapon to sink into soft flesh, rending her attacker useless as it tore through muscle and vein. However, her wrist was caught and she was pushed forward, her uncoordinated legs tripping her. Just moments before she could hit the hardwood floor she was suddenly pulled back up, making her gasp and drop her knife. She was hit with a moment of nausea as the world seemed to spin without her. An arm wrapped around her waist, reminding her that she had been running about in the dark with nothing covering her torso but a bra. She stiffened, staring into the reflection and at her ghostly appearance.

Her thoughts raced around the twisted streets of her mind, crashing into one another comically. Vulnerable, Namie felt her fear consuming her beating heart. She was frozen, unable to move as the (noticeable) man chuckled behind her, gently drumming his fingers along her waist and down her hip. The bastard. She could clearly imagine Izaya laughing at her awkward position, practically being held hostage by a man she couldn't see. She only hoped Izaya was more helpful, and that he would show up and save her. What an asshole!

Wait. Why was she thinking about _him._ She could handle this just fine on her own. All she needed was to somehow get out of this grip...

Namie racked her brain for ideas, cursing herself for being so slow. She wriggled, trying to loosen the uncomfortable hold this devious man had. For goodness sake he was getting closer to the bottom of her skirt!

A flash of silver caught her eye, and it seemed as if the world had stopped when she saw what it belonged to. Then the world began to rotate again, slowly. So irritatingly slow, that all of her physical anger had run out. Now she was so filled with hate for this man, that she stood, still as a statue, glaring into the night outside.

The hands. The laugh. Too gentle. Too cheerful (and creepy). The two silver rings on each of his index fingers only confirmed her suspicion.

She knew exactly who it was. In fact, knowing his identity gave her permission to punch him. This man, was in fact, a very punchable man. And she swore that she would punch him so hard, he would land at the feet of Shizuo Heiwajima, to be beaten even more until he was nothing but a bloody pulp.

She stood quietly, her captor stopping his movements as he seemed to patiently wait for her next response, in which she gave very thoroughly.

She whipped around, breaking his hold and slammed her fist right into his face, earning a satisfying yelp and a thud.

"Get the fuck OUT of my house Izaya or I swear to whatever fucked up gods that I'll kick your ass into the next life!" A string of threats and various profanity followed this beginning statement, and instead of footsteps hitting the floor in escape, she received laughter. As expected.

"Aww, Namie are you really so upset over it? I was only messing with you." He held his abused cheek and steadily got up from the floor, wrapping an arm around her from playfulness. He flinched back as her elbow connected with his stomach, causing him to back off and deal with his pain first.

"Asshole." She growled. He smirked, looking back up as he recovered from the blow.

"You should have seen your face. You looked so cute scared like that I almost gave myself up early." She smacked him over the head, making him yelp.

"Not funny you damn pervert. Now get out." The brunette glared daggers at her boss, dully glancing off his dark, evil, disgusting soul. He put his hands up defensively.

"Alright. I know I'm a bit intimidating."

"You mean downright creepy."

"Now that's just cruel." She crossed her arms, turning away from him.

"Just get out of my apartment. And take your cat with you."

"Kicking me out at this hour? Namie I'm a very wanted man I'm sure you know that." He pointed to the cat, who stared at them curiously with gleaming gold eyes. "And that's not mine."

Ignoring him, Namie frowned. "I don't care if you die."

"Lies."

"How do you know?" She snapped.

"Because then you won't get paid~" He said in a sing song voice, pissing her off even more because it was true. She gave no answer. Izaya leaned forward, like a child eager for their parents to say 'yes.' She pushed away his moonlit face.

"One night. Then leave first thing in the morning before I call the police for breaking and entering." The informant cheered and wrapped his arms around her again.

"Thank you Namie dear~" She huffed, not returning the embrace or the enthusiasm.

"Don't call me 'dear.'" She said.

"Okay~"

"And pay me double."

"What? But Namie-" She delivered a punch to his stomach, making him grimace in pain.

"Ow! Okay, okay I'll pay you double. But you have to cook me breakfast."

He gained another well deserved punch and a free ticket to sleep on the floor.


End file.
